


Broken

by TimeKing



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Death Wish, Doggy Style, Dom/sub, Electrocution, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Love/Hate, M/M, Manipulation, Physical Abuse, Porn With Plot, Sexual Slavery, Smut, Throk will become Lotor's toyboy, Torture, Triggers, Violence, blowjob, gayporn, indicated surrender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 14:59:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16120922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeKing/pseuds/TimeKing
Summary: They say once you are broken you cannot return to your old self.... what they mean  by that is, you will never be completely whole again. Unless you have someone picking up the shards with meticulous care to glue them together... bit by bit.A strong emotion like hatred catalyzed this process surprisingly well.Throk is being tortured and Lotor needs a toyboy.





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there, it's my first try at writing fanfiction in the Voltron Legendary Defender section. I hope you enjoy it.  
> And it hasn't been beta-read yet. Forgive me if there are mistakes. I'm actually no native speaker either, but I hope this fanfic still reads good and fluent.  
> Disclaimer: Nothing in there is mine

"You are of no use any more to us, if you keep on repeating your lies over and over again to defile prince Lotor's name." Despite the annoyance there was also still glee to be heard in the druid's voice as their fingers swiped over the console screen once again, sending jolts of scrutinizing pain through every muscle within Throk's worn out body.  
_That's it... I'll be ended as traitor, not as the warrior I am_ he thought bitterly.

His screams echoed from the walls. He knew... no, he wished they wouldn't turn it off again.... roasting him to death instead. And the thought was utterly pleasing in itself. He already craved the moment, he would pass out from all the suffering he had endured up until now. 

This hope died though when the door swayed open and the last person he would have wanted to see him exposed like that and screaming at the top of his lungs was entering the room with that nasty smirk plastered over his lips. Immediately Throk bit his lip, hoping it would stifle his moans and cries. Of course, it didn't work. One hardly maintained control over his body when being electrocuted.

The taste of blood coated his tongue, when Lotor raised his hand in a silent order to get the device switched off . The jolts died down instantly.  
Throk gave a sound of frustration as his body went limp. His muscles were sore and aching from the ordeal and his gaze was blurred around the edges, while shreds of white obscured his field of view. He didn't have the strength or vigor to return the prince's stare. Instead he cast his eyes down, stubbornly fixing an invisible spot on the ground.

A moment of loathing for the prince flared up as Lotor raised his hand again. This time to slip it under Throk's chin, tilting his head up and making him look into his eyes. A smug expression graced his features as he examined the results of his doing. A soft growl was all the tall Galra could muster in return, merely earning himself a quiet chuckle from the damned halfbreed. 

“You never change, do you? Sticking persistently to old habits. I admire your endurance, though, I must give you that. But I pity your simplistic perception. How long have you been here now? Three Quintants? Four, perhaps? And you still won't quit accusing me of your own failures. Didn't pain teach you any better?”  
Throk grit his teeth and yanked his chin free from Lotor's finger, snapping at it. He did, however, refuse to answer those questions with words. As a consequence the druid in charge served him another electric shock wrecking through his body. 

“Turn it off. This is absolutely redundant!” The prince raised his voice just slightly, but his tone didn't tolerate no dissent. “I decide when torturing him is appropriate and when it is not, druid.” A sharp gesture of his hand was all it took for the masked lackey, to oblige. 

_Enjoying my suffering too much to risk sending me into oblivion, don't you?_ Throk wondered bitterly as his body slackened against the cold metal of the interrogation jig once again. Despite his fatigue, the ex-commander couldn't contain a snarl directed at the masked bastard who had tortured him for a while now. Then his gaze returned to the prince. 

“Such.... sadism...” His voice rasped from soreness and his parched throat. He was given water, so he wouldn't dehydrate during interrogation and faint. But it was hardly enough on long terms. He grinned none the less, feeling the Kind of missplaced sensation of superiority overcoming him. Maybe because he still didn't completely falter in front of Lotor... maybe because he still had some pride left inside him... definitely also out of stubbornness. “Your father would be proud of----!”

The fist hitting his cheekbone made him groan in agony. Suddenly the usually calm prince had lost his temper and now glared at him blatantly spiteful, teeth clenched and eyebrows furrowed furiously. Just a tick too long for Throk to see, before his expression returned to smug contentment. 

_Touchy subject_ , then, the ex-commander concluded and his grin broadened. At least he gained a little triumph in an unfortunate series of events.  
“Ah, yes. You got me for a moment... talking without being questioned. Don't ever do that again. Actually, I came here for an offer. Yet, I see no improvement in your attitude towards me. I fear you need another day to reconsider your current situation. I will come back again the day after tomorrow.” If Lotor used some sort of reverse psychology and wanted to trigger Throk into begging, the tall Galra wouldn't grant him such triumph. No offer would be interesting enough for such a humiliation.

“You may continue your interrogation.” He stated in a neutral almost bored sounding tone which contradicted heavily with his slightly sour expression. Then he turned on his heel and left the room.

\-----

On the sixth day of daily interrogation, Lotor returned to Throk. This time after the torture. The ex-commander lay crooked in foetal position on a hard bench inside a cell in the prisoner's block. His body was trembling erratically from the after effects, his heart skipped some beats every now and then and his breath hitched and rattled like a broken pipe... he felt so cold, tired and sick... havocked.

He knew he couldn't... wouldn't last much longer. The daily torture wore his body and mind thin further with each passing Quintant. But still the fear of what was to come next, should he succumb to the accusations, was keeping him from simply lying on this matter and saying it was all his fault. He remembered what happened to Prorok... he knew what they did to Thace. And he didn't want to be part of that line, didn't want to be the next in a row of names which wouldn't be memorized for their outstanding work but for the failures they made. 

Innocent or guilty... they didn't make any difference when it came down to a Galra who was of no use for them any longer. And with they he thought of the witch, he thought of the druids.... and he thought of Lotor. 

“Look at you.” The prince started the conversation conceitedly. “You're a mess.”

“Sh-sh-shut up!” Throk stuttered, inwardly cursing his own weakness and inability at the moment. He couldn't even bring himself to glare at the other one. Instead his eyes merely twitched uncontrolled when he tried to focus. Another convulsion ravaged his body, though and a gasp escaped him, followed closely by a whimper.

Would this excruciating pain ever stop?

“I see. You're still struggling. You need medical treatment. Don't be a fool and let my offer go to waste again before you even hear me out.”  
“What for?!” Throk bellowed, mustering up some strength to growl at the halfbreed prince. “So that the w-w-witch... can use me as s-sscientific object... nnng... for her lunatic ex-experiments?! For your... p-personal entertainment?! TELL M-M-ME!”

The prince stood there glowering at him just a tick, before the usual benevolent smile was painted over his pensive features once again. Just that Throk thought of it more as arrogance and cunning than benevolence. “For your health, of course. Doesn't that matter to you any more? Have you already stooped so low that you don't even consider fighting an option? Do you give up just that easily? That's rather disappointing. I thought better of you actually.”

The underlying accusation of weakness hit the mark. But instead of inflicting damage it rather fueled Throk's hatred. A deep growl thundered through his chest and he bared his fangs, before coming up to his feet. Only the stars knew where he took this strength from. Probably adrenaline.

Unfortunately the short-lived adrenaline input spawning from his rage wasn't enough to keep him on his legs. The Galra stumbled and fell to his knees, before he even took one step towards the prince. His breath hitched again and he broke a sweat just from this small movement. The sore muscles burned from the strain.  
But at least he had the satisfaction of seeing Lotor honestly astonished. His eyes were widened in shock and his right hand already took hold on the hilt of his sword. He obviously still considered him a threat. Good to know.

Sooner than Throk would have liked, Lotor recovered though and looked down on him, mocking him with a twitch of the corner of his mouth. “Impressive.” he said. “Six days of being electrocuted and you still are not a puddle of mess. I must admit, this was an extraordinary demonstration of your capacity, ex-commander Throk. I understand now why my father valued your qualification so much. And there I believed your endurance was mediocre at best. I thought you wouldn't last a single day of true torment... I have to reconsider my offer again. You don't seem to need medical treatment just yet. Maybe you'll need it tomorrow.”

When the door closed behind the prince, Throk permitted himself to slump against the wall, shaking from both pain and frustration and hoping desperately that tomorrow never came. 

\----

The pain of being slapped across his face hardly stung. His mind was dull, his gaze was dull, the world around him... dull. In the back of his mind he knew something wasn't right, if he felt like that. But he couldn't grasp the concept in his mind of how he should feel instead. 

“Get him into a healing pod!” 

He heard these words being shouted and registered the hastiness around him, but he couldn't bring himself to care... or feel bothered... or whatever.  
Everything was beautifully dull.

No electricity. 

No pain. 

No doubts.

It felt almost nice... almost, just because he felt nothing else but numbness. 

“If he dies, you will die, too, did I make myself clear?!”

This was Lotor's voice...

What? 

Such vehemence...... why?

\---

When he woke up he was lying on his bench again. The blinding light on the ceiling of his cell burned in his eyes when they fluttered open, so he covered them with his wrist. He tried to regain the memory of what happened earlier that Quintant... Or whatever Quintant it was.

But he couldn't remember anything but the torture and the pain of being electrocuted... Which wasn't necessarily something he wanted to remember.  
Just then he realized the absence of any aftershock ravaging his body. His heart didn't stumble, his breathing didn't sting. Testing he tried to sit up straight and, to his own surprise, could do that without suffering from soaring pain and tremendous exertion.

"So your recovery proves to be a success." A soft chuckle accompanied the all too familiar, irritating voice. Throk almost jumped in surprise when Lotor took a step closer.  
Had he been here with him the all along?

"What happened?" The ex-commander asked. His fur on the back of his neck bristled and his claws dug deep into the metal of his bench with a nasty scratching sound. The prince's presence made him oddly cautious and defensive, but he was curious nonetheless.

“You didn't take your latest interrogation all too well. I fixed that. You owe me some complaiance for still being with us.”

The ex-commander snorted. “I owe you? That's far fetched, isn't it? It's your entertainment you seek in my well-being after all. I owe you nothing.”  
The prince sighed visibly annoyed. “The same old story again and again, Throk? Can you just not simply be grateful for ---”

“I have been grateful once. I would have followed you and your ideals, the moment you voiced them. They were indeed inspiring. Still are...” the Galra retorted bitterly. After a short pause he added, “It took me to Ulippa system and to the torture I have to endure for several hours Quintant by Quintant for believing just a single word of yours. I won't ever forget how much of a slick liar you really are.”

“That sounds overly dramatic, even for your standards. You payed the price for your own mistakes. You were aware the whole time of that, should someone listen into your deceitful schemes of overthrowing emperor Zarkon, then you would be reported. This was absolutely foolish, even more so when considering that you were in a public area." Lotor argued. "Furthermore, you offended me and my generals with your little racist-tinted speech about halfbreeds. It's one thing to think the way you do, but it's quite another thing to voice it out loud. You are bothersome, Throk, always have been with your radical mindset and your obsolete perception. You made a mistake by crossing me and you pay for it, until either you are dead or I can convince them to stop. You can hardly blame me for your current situation, but I indeed can understand why you choose to see an object of hate in me. No one likes to acknowledge his wrongs, especially when being punished for them, correct? That's the reason behind your choice to fight me instead of surrendering and that's also the true reason behind you momentary stubbornness... You don't want to give in. Admitting flaws would be seen as an act of weakness.” Lotor smirked at him with that pompous expression featuring his face. His argumentation seemed to be thought-out and he was absolutely convinced by his words.

If it weren't for this bastard to enjoy his quite logical conclusion so much, Throk might have agreed to his statement. But the stubborn pride in him automatically convinced him to defy the sense in anything the prince said. He raised to his feet and with two steps he was standing right in front of Lotor, towering intimidating close over his frail figure. He saw his hand reaching for his sword, but this time Throk didn't let him get hold on the hilt. One of his hands shot forward to his throat, the other captured the prince's wrist to keep him from drawing his sword.

“Nnnhhh... strangling me now? You always resort to violence, when you get nowhere fast.” The following soft chuckle died immediately when Throk pressed his windpipe harder. 

“When will you ever shut up? Do I really have to kill you first to silence you?” The ex-commander growled. He wanted to rip his throat with his claws so badly. It itched in his fingers to pierce that flawless lilac skin and tint it red with his own blood. But something stopped him from doing so. 

He knew it wasn't pity or mercy he felt. After all he had killed many men and women with his bare hands on the battlefield and did not once regret what he had done.  
Maybe it was disappointment he felt, when he watched Lotor turning a paler color and heard the poor wheezing sounds he made. The prince wasn't the monster he wanted him to be. He wasn't the untouchable, unbreakable person he saw in him for so long. 

He was... just like Throk himself... merely a man who could die on any Quintant... in any tick.

There was indeed no victory in killing him like that moment. Throk clicked his tongue disapprovingly and let go of Lotor's throat. “Way too dissatisfying.”  
The prince, having been lifted against the wall by Throk's brutal force, landed on the ground and gasped, desperately craving for oxygen to fill his lungs. He looked up at the Galra, his facial expression speaking of consideration and curiosity. 

“Leave, before I change my mind.” Throk said, when Lotor opened his mouth to say something. “I don't want to hear your offer. I won't accept it anyways.”  
Another considering glance was thrown at him. But then the prince left without another word.

\---

A movement passed without Lotor showing up once more.

Throk was back into his habit of shaking violently on his bench again after seemingly endless sessions of interrogation, when the cell door opened and closed shortly after the prince entered.

“Do you wish to die so badly?” His voice sounded oddly grave. “They say you refuse to eat now?” 

“You ack-ahg-again?” Was all the Galra answered. He didn't want to speak of how he couldn't eat any longer without throwing up. He knew he should at least try with his current physical condition... but what sense did it make any more? The time had come that death sounded way sweeter than life. Strength and pride were just a foolish memory of past Quintants. There was no pride in convulsion, peeing oneself and vomiting. 

“You disappoint me!”

“S-s-so what?”

“Show me that you still have it in you!”

“N-n-no....”

Lotor was at his side within a Tick, glaring at him. Throk had never seen him so fierce. The prince would always keep some composure on his features. At the moment he didn't, but the ex-commander couldn't care less. 

“Fight!” He felt a hand tightening around the collar of his prisoner clothing and the spits of pure fury sprinkling his cheeks.  
He didn't even bother to answer.

There was no sense of fighting left in him. Instead he cast his eyes down and drooped his ears. 

“FIGHT!” 

However, Lotor's vehemence stirred something inside Throk. Something he knew existed but was buried with debris and rubble of the Galran warrior he once used to be. Of course, the prince noticed the slight change immediately and kept on pissing him off by shaking him intensely.

“I said NO.... y-y-you spoiled brat-t!” he growled. “Can't you.... j-just ack-accept that?!”

A knowing smirk plastered his insufferable lips again and Throk was reminded of his hatred towards the bastard sitting in front of him.

“That's the spirit.” 

For a moment Throk simply stared with his mouth agape, before he realized how dense he must have looked by the chuckle the prince presented him. “By the stars, I hate you so much!” Was his even dumber response to that.

“I hate you, too. And I'm glad you are still your old self, deep down there.” Lotor said in an strangely affectionate undertone and poked against his chest with his index finger. His eyes were lidded when he drew closer and locked lips with the ex-commander.

Throk didn't refuse... He hadn't seen it coming. Not in the slightest. But instead of refusing he leaned into it, inhaled the strength he gained from the other.... and actually even enjoyed it.

\---

They say once you are broken you cannot return to your old self.... what they mean by that is, you will never be completely whole again. Unless you have someone picking up the shards with meticulous care to glue them together... bit by bit.  
A strong emotion like hatred catalyzed this process surprisingly well. 

Lotor had a strange gift of fixing the remains with force and carnal desire.

\---

“Mhhmmmm... hah.... don't you dare to stop.”

Lotor tugged on the leash around Throk's neck. A soft blush painted his cheeks in a deeper shade of purple as he came apart for the kneeling Galra who was slowly drawing his skilled tongue over the underside of his length. 

They were in the private quarters of the prince. His royal tush sat on his overly luxuriant couch and spread his legs for his pet wide. 

Pet. As insulting as it may sound, if Throk didn't enjoy making the other come undone by his treatment he wouldn't have stooped so low as to be willingly called that. But seeing this delicateness each and every night they shared was enough a flattery to keep going. It was his very own personal triumph to see him like that.

He had a better life now. The interrogation had stopped the moment the prince claimed him his... his personal slave, he'd said. But only his. It was strangely comforting to know that there was still a task for Throk to fulfill. Even though it was to serve Lotor.

A hand found the small prominent tuft of hair on his head and combed through it as if to urge him on.

He complied and sucked the tip of Lotor's slender penis into his mouth hollowing his cheeks and reaping gasps and whimpers in return.

“Ahhhhh... Throk..... damn you! Stop teasing.” Another tug on his leash.

The tall Galra chuckled and swallowed him whole, relaxing his throat and concentrating on breathing through his nose to let the bucking hips fuck his mouth. He gagged just twice, but he endured it. And he enjoyed it. 

Lotor's skin was coated by a thin film of sweat as he threw his head back, exposing his throat. The seat was broad enough for him to rest upon his elbows. His hips rolled in a steady rhythm, thrusting into the others mouth while watching him with glazed eyes.

Mere lust was the ultimate expression on his soft features.

Throk couldn't deny that.

That unnerving composure the obnoxious brat usually wore like a mask was at long last wiped away by him. And him alone. He took pride in that.

And he liked it. Much to his own surprise. It was more satisfying than to rapture the other by force. Who would have guessed?

“I'm.... ahhhhh.... so close.....please..... I need more.... more of you.”

So desperate. So greedy.

Throk released the cock with a plop of his mouth and crawled onto the seat towards his former enemy now master, positioning himself in the process and getting the small tube of lubricant which was placed neatly beside him. 

“How much do you want me?” Throk rasped pumping the prince's length with one hand while prepping his tight hole with two lubricated, nimble fingers.  
Lotor bit his lips and trembled underneath him. Each contraction of his muscles betraying how ready he already was for him. His begging eyes were everything Throk needed to know. He removed the fingers, finding his own heat stretching his patience, and thrust into him up to the hilt without further word exchanged. He could hardly resist to top him and fuck him senseless in the process. 

Lotor arched his back and the ex-commander took this as a signal to bite him into the soft flesh between his neck and shoulder, piercing the skin with his sharp fangs and collecting the droplets of blood with his tongue in an almost placating gesture afterwards. The prince purred and lifted his legs around the others lean body, tying them around his hip to give him a more pleasing angle.

All the while soft mewling sounds and gasps escaped his swollen lips. 

“I hate you much.” The Galra whispered huskily into his ear and began moving into him in a merciless, brutal way. “Bastard!”

“Ahhhhh..... hate you, too.......!! More....... nnnn.....harder!” 

Oh yes... His master knew so well how to keep him motivated. 

Throk flipped him around on all fours and re-entered. This time he didn't hold back and literally fucked him into the seat. 

He drew his claws over the delicate lilac skin of Lotor's thighs, leaving beautiful red lines as markings there, before he got hold of his hips to drill into him even harder.  
By then Lotor's velvet, hot walls clenched around him whenever he hit the most sensitive spot inside, driving him closer and closer to his own climax.

Incoherent sounds and slapping of flesh against flesh was all that could be heard within Lotor's room. 

His name being screamed.

Erratic earthquake-like contractions pumped his shaft.

Their fingers entwined as their hands found each other automatically.

Throk growled when release washed over him like a wave of pure bliss. There were shreds of white dancing in his field of view when he filled Lotor's ass with his cum. Next he collapsed on the delicate figure underneath him, before he slipped out and rolled onto the seat beside him. 

“Damn.... This was intense..... You bloody bastard.” he breathed out.

The prince chuckled in response, similarly out of breath. “Quit calling me that..... and learn how to say master... instead.”

“Never. Ever.”

“Stubborn prick.”

“Fuck yourself then.”

The bickering between them was the most fun part of their strange relationship... if one could even call it that.

Throk rolled onto his side, looking at him, curiosity written all over his face. “What was that hand touching for?”

“It was nothing. A mere accident! I despise you, never forget that!” His voice was aloof and harsh all of a sudden. The ex-commander flinched at the sudden harsh strain on his choker. “You are nothing more than a replaceable toyboy, Throk. If you won't succumb any time soon I will wipe you out of my life and out of yours, too. Did I make myself clear?”

A short exchange of glares, then Throk cast his eyes own. “You don't want me to succumb.” It was a bit cocky, but also some sort of question. Everything here was like walking on a razor's edge.

There was so much more he wanted to say in that moment, but it wouldn't be smart to let his hate control him now. 

He was very much reminded that he was only tolerated, that he was still here, because the prince found him interesting enough for the moment. Should he ever be bored of him he would be thrown away.... and he knew for sure that it would hurt.

But until then he wouldn't stop fighting. And the prince would enjoy that in him.

**Author's Note:**

> There will probably be another story from Lotor's POV following after this. I still have to write it though. X'D


End file.
